She comes up to me...

and says

'Do something Mum!'

No grey face here!

What to do about the dog?

I've always said I will do the right thing by her when the time comes.

The problem is how do you know when the day dawns?

Last night she wasn't at all well, she was slightly sick and didn't look at her dinner.

I went up to the greenhouse with glass of wine and watched the rain start to fall.

My head was full of, are we getting to the point when before things

overtake us, and she becomes really ill should I make the decision.

Coming back down the garden she was stood outside the door with tail

between her legs.  Ted was stood watching her with a worried expression.

She looked at me with no welcome in her eyes, we went in

and she climbed into her bed.

While we were having supper she went and ate hers.

Relief, she's coming back.

We often sit with tears in our eyes thinking of when the time comes.
 I have always said that I would rather do it before she is in real pain.
However saying what you propose to do, and actually doing it, are two completely
different things.

Lettice is now fifteen years old and she has been part of the family since she came
from the rescue centre at the tender age of 6 months.
She was skin and bone and had been horribly ill-treated.
She was one very timid dog and has been all her life,
well that is, until the dementia set in.  Now she's very chilled and not at all fazed when people come.  I have never had such an intelligent dog; a collie with all their funny
little foibles; a joy, a faithful and non-judgemental friend.

She loves the Proms, every last night I wonder
'Will this be her last?'

A couple of years ago she had a mini stroke (ataxia) and we sent for the vet thinking that this was the end.  He arrived ready for the dastardly deed to be done.  On seeing him she barked, and he said that she was far from the end.  On explaining what was wrong and what to expect we were happy to carry on.  She has had a couple more attacks and  now is very doddery on her feet.  

Ted takes her in for her nails to be clipped every six weeks as like many old girls she has trouble with her feet.   I don't go as I transmit my fears!

When we take her out for a walk, we plod along accompanied by the pitiful looks of
all we meet.  It's not good to see in their eyes what we know in our hearts.
Lettice is coming to the end of the road.  She is still keen to go out for a walk although the distant gets shorter by the month.  She sleeps when she gets home for the rest of the day. During that time, she has to be put out, to save on bed linen, as her muscle tone isn't what it was, whose is?
Our washing machine is going most days.  Ted gets up every night at 3am to let her out.
The only time he slept through the alarm, she had an accident, she was as mortified as he to the puddle on the floor, Ted thought he'd let her down.  Miss Tena is now our faithful friend, as our holiday money is now spent at her door, allowing Lettice dignity in old age.

Our old family dog Poppette, one winters night was let out and my father couldn't find her, she was sixteen and had wedged herself between the coal bunker and the house
waiting to die.  He brought her in and 'saved' her for another couple of months.
To what purpose?  Her life was miserable after my mother died and he was at work all day.  Eventually she was taken off by the vet to be put to sleep.  When I heard, I always vowed I wouldn't let it get that far.  How to know, that's the problem?